


Winged Cupid Painted Blind

by sequinnox



Series: Stars Not Fathomed Into Constellations [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Consensual Egg Theft, F/M, IchiRuki Week, Kitsune!Rukia, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Royal!Ichigo, Slow-ish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27175360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequinnox/pseuds/sequinnox
Summary: Alright. Ichigo did not mind being robbed of a few eggs every now and then (okay, maybe he did, but he had no idea how to defend the chickens without dressing himself like one and having a first-hand experience with the thief), but this was already too much. He cursed mentally that his education has included too much of dead languages and too little of practical agriculture, since his plants and vegetables seemed to have seen much better days, even before being the prey of some seriously skilled bandit.Tsk.( IR Week Day 2: Don't get caught)
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: Stars Not Fathomed Into Constellations [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983538
Comments: 11
Kudos: 25
Collections: Ichiruki week





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.” – W. Shakespeare 
> 
> (or, let's see how many references i can slip in without it getting *too* uncomfortable)

Ichigo Kurosaki was many things, and _peculiar_ summed up most of them. Against most customs, he had insisted on keeping his brightly coloured hair in a military, short fashion after his mother, the empress, had died; and while he didn’t seem to have a knack for politics and diplomacy, the boy was excelling in combat and martial arts. 

Kisuke Urahara lowered his hat, shade covering the glint in his grey eyes as he watched the young prince reading when he thought no one was looking. 

The palace was home to many secrets, and it seemed like Ichigo’s gentleness was the best kept of them all.

*

Alright. Ichigo did not mind being robbed of a few eggs every now and then (okay, _maybe_ he did, but he had no idea how to defend the chickens without dressing himself like one and having a first-hand experience with the thief), but this was already too much. He cursed mentally that his education has included too much of dead languages and too little of _practical_ agriculture, since his plants and vegetables seemed to have seen much better days, even before being the prey of some seriously skilled bandit. 

Tsk. 

Looking through the window of the small cottage he has taken to calling home, Ichigo could see how life, real life, differed so much from what he could see from the pedestal granted to him through birth alone, with no merit of his own. Ichigo felt both conflicted and nauseated that the high houses served 6 different courses for dinner on any ordinary day, while the people were starving. 

People born with silver spoons in their mouths usually had their hands tied with a gold thread too, and only realised it when the thread cut through their wrists, stained red.

His reverie was shattered by a broken cry from behind the chicken pen, a cry that seemed to belong to someone who did their best and failed to keep it low. 

Ichigo smirked. _Not so stealthy anymore, are we?_

Quickly putting on his slippers, Ichigo grabbed the lamp from the table and rushed to the source of the noise. Dried leaves crinkled under his steps and Ichigo winced internally – he had time later to complain about his skills, or lack thereof. The path was clear, and he followed it right to the small space he remembered tucking the trap, just in time to find the culprit–

A fox.

A small, angry, oddly light-haired fox, with a few darker marks.

Ichigo froze on the spot. He was an elite soldier, trained in countless martial arts and _he had been fooled by a small animal_ _from the countryside_. If she could see him now, Tatsuki would probably laugh at him without even _pretending_ not to in order to keep up appearances.

Careful not to scare the fox, Ichigo stepped closer, hanging the lamp onto one of the branches closeby. Up close, it seemed more annoyed than afraid, its dark eyes daring him to do _one_ wrong step. Mindful of his hakama catching in the branches and ripping, Ichigo unfolded the trap. The fox hissed sharply, but didn't seem to protest much against being carried away to the hut.

Tending to wounds has never been Ichigo's forte but he was a quick learner, after hastily making his way through his belongings to find bandages and salve. A distant memory of his mother wrapping Karin's ankle after she had twisted it while playing a bit too roughly with the boys of the lady in waiting; it faded away just as soon, once Ichigo was brought to reality by a faint cry from the little guest. 

With deft fingers, he examined the wound – which seemed much shallower than it looked in the dim light of the lam– the lamp! He had forgotten it behind the pen. Scowling at his own carelessness, Ichigo dashed to get back the lamp before a gust of wind knocked it off and turned his home into a mocking firework.

Upon his return, he eyed the fox suspiciously, as it seemed to have made itself comfortable on the small cloth he left it, looking like it owned the place, though nothing seemed out of order. Ichigo wrapped its leg neatly, and sheepishly attempted to feed it the leftovers from his dinner – he has never seen someone look so condescendingly at a bowl of rice ever before, but he supposed there is a beginning to everything. Silently, Ichigo looked up and thanked kami that between the fox and himself, no one will tell a soul about what really happened in Karakura.

If that was any indication, it was going to be an interesting evening.

The fact that Crown Prince Ichigo, heir to the throne of Seiretei, had never had to share his bed before, was, well, not unexpected. Other than Yuzu and Karin coming to sleep in his room after having nightmares in the dead of the night, no one really had the nerve to even step in his room.

Unexpected was the fact that, despite going to bed alone, he woke up with a disturbingly furry blanket almost smothering him to death.

Cracking an amber eye open, Ichigo noticed some red markings around the fox's muzzle and eyes that were not blood– though they faded, as if they were just the rosy morning light playing with his mind.

It was too early to be this tired, he tried to reason.

Instead, two amethyst eyes stared at him curiously, so dark they seemed almost black. 

" Morning to you too… " Ichigo muttered, stretching in the gentle warmth underneath the _actual_ blanket. 

After shuffling around a bit, the fox jumped off the futon and strolled around the room, pointedly avoiding looking at Ichigo while he changed from his sleep yukata into a black, simple one. It limped, and the bandage on its hind leg, while not soaked, was stained with dried blood.

Ichigo winced. He knew from experience how uncomfortable stale bandages were.

After wrapping his futon with sure, quick movements, Ichigo went straight to the short table he had designated for medical care the other day, and patted the wooden surface. His small companion complied (surprisingly!) and laid still while his fingers undid the bandages– Ichigo eyed the wound suspiciously, as it seemed to have gotten a lot better in a single night. If satisfaction brought the cat back, why would it not help the fox too, after all…

After Ichigo finished tying up the clumsy bandage, he turned to the small pot he used to cook his stew.

The room was slowly filled by a smell of incense and smoke. 

Ichigo turned around, but the fox was nowhere to be seen.

*

Truth be told, Rukia had quite enjoyed teasing the young villager. 

At first, she was intrigued by his immense reiatsu, although its master didn't seem to be too aware of it. Rukia knew of humans with soul energy, those who had the sight and coin to deal and speak in tongues with the yokai. 

Some of them were hunters, seeking the power of the creatures of the hidden world, stealing teeth and claws and hearts, and killing those whose gifts and trinkets were willingly given. 

Why do men feel entitled to all the things that for centuries have belonged to someone else?

As a vessel of Inari, Rukia's mischief was not ill intentioned or malevolent, but neither was she foolish enough to trust anyone entirely.

And so, when this new tall stranger with an outrageous hair colour and with the handiness of a toddler shows up on her territory, there was literally no harm in having a little fun, right? Besides, she was known as the zenko of that forest– not _her_ , Rukia Kuchiki, but the kitsune who tricked travelers and helped those who helped her (and if she happened to have a soft spot for orphans, that was no one's business). So really, he was basically _asking_ to be messed with.

What she didn't expect, however, was the fact that he would actually set up traps intricate enough to catch her – which was honestly really questionable, considering that concealment charms so strong were both hard to get right, and difficult to set, especially by someone whose reiatsu was sealed; the second thing, and the one that definitely refuted her suspicions about him being a yokai hunter, was how utterly, foolishly _kind_ he was. 

Maybe a little stupid too, since she was pretty sure that he had seen through the concealments that made her fox form look like a real fox, and where did this boy live where foxes were white with red markings?! 

Rukia shook her head. Strawberry head.

After she had vanished, she made her way into the forest, behind the Veil that separated the humans and the magical beings. Shifting from her fox form, Rukia felt the leaves and the grass crumpling beneath her feet, pale skin still bearing the angry, red marks of a freshly healed wound. 

Her hut was not far from his, and she wondered how much it would take the stranger to stumble upon it. Grinning to herself, she opened the door and grabbed one of her silky kosodes and the hair brush, intent on ruining the make-shift crown of branches and leaves that gathered in her hair. 

Midnight eyes set on the narrow window, the sky darkening under her gaze. She may not have hung the stars in the sky, but her bones were seeping with blue and silver and magic and ether; she was the cold chill of the morning.

This was her forest.

And she welcomed him to be a part of it.

If the stranger was bothered by Rukia's departure, the eggs he left for her the next morning, right outside the pen in a small basket, were not a good clue to that.

As she was carefully concealed by her vulpine form and hidden between branches, Rukia could feel Inari's energy flowing freely to her, amusement clear in the buzz of the air. She didn't often ignore the deity, but as the patron god of tricksters, they were bound to have that quicksilver nature– that now seemed to tease Rukia for observing the stranger stretch through the window (that seemed like it would sustain serious property damage in case of attempted opening), accidentally hit the ceiling and cuss (though Rukia was too far away to hear what he was saying), before going outside with two baskets in hand. 

Had she still had eyebrows, they would have been raised as far up as they would go.

Minutes after the usual chaos created in the pen has finally settled back to silence, the stranger came back into view, crouching suspiciously– Rukia guessed he was looking for her.

He may not be so foolish after all.

He left the smaller basket right near the wooden wall of the pen and went back to his hut. He still had to make a few trips to the well in the backyard to get water, but Rukia knew he would take some time before doing that; as her eyes had followed his figure, Rukia noticed that his shoulders, though broad, didn't have the stiffness of a farmer, and his light footing was akin to a messenger. Her best guess was that he was a soldier, maybe part of the nobility? 

It would explain the traps. 

It didn't make said traps any more pleasant to deal though.

Not bothering with concealing herself, she took the basket, careful not to pierce it with her fangs.

In the corner of her eyes, she thought she had seen the faintest orange glow in the window and the shadow of a smile on a face trying hard not to show it.

It took him three more days to leave bits of meat and vegetables beside the eggs in the small basket – Rukia took back what she said about him not being foolish; what kind of fox eats potatoes?! –, and three more after that for Rukia to show herself to him in plain daylight, nudging his leg until he eventually got the idea to follow her through the forest to her destination, the widow with two kids on the outskirts of the village. Standing in front of the door, Rukia pointed at the battered wood in the most suggestive way she could, and he seemed to get the point; Rukia quietly turned around, taking advantage of his slight anxiety to sneak away into the comfort and anonymity the bushes granted.

The woman had opened her door suspiciously after he had knocked, but her eyes shone and wrinkled at the corners, inviting him in. Flustered and completely red, the stranger looked around for a Rukia that was nowhere to be found, about to refuse the offer, when he had spotted the two kids of the widow, sleeping together on a futon close to the door, locks of both blonde and dark hair intertwined like a dreamcatcher on the ground. 

Rukia couldn't see his face from her hiding spot, but from the way his shoulder sagged forward and his back relaxed from the almost military stance he seemed to keep at all times, the zenko could tell she had done a good deed by bringing the stranger with her.

Hopefully, he won't be _too mad_ about sharing his space with her soon enough. 

*

The fox kept appearing at random times, and Ichigo didn't exactly _mind_ her presence, though he had to admit that the darkness of her eyes was uncanny at times. 

Calculating.

Still, it was nice that he had someone to spend time with, even if his companion was furry and couldn't speak much beyond the unimpressed glances thrown his way every now and then.

( Though considering the way she seemed completely enthralled by Yuzu's bunny doll he took with him, Ichigo would say this was a severe case of the pot calling the kettle black. )

The fox somehow deemed his closet a sufficiently comfortable space, since more often than not she napped there, fluffy ears pointed towards him, although it didn't last long until Ichigo realised that the fox was looking out _for_ him, not _because_ of him. Besides, she could come and go as she wished, since it was not like he could _ask_ how exactly was she making her way in his perfectly guarded house.

Still, at the edge of the forest, having such a benevolent guide seemed to be a good omen. 

Now if only he could teach her how to play shogi…

" Did no one tell you that's not how you tend to barley? "

The feminine voice startled Ichigo out of his skin, who turned to face her mid-jump, armed with the small knife he used as an improvised gardening tool. 

In front of him stood a–

"Maa, you are really short," he startled, half jumping into a defensive stance.

Both Ichigo and the young woman stopped dead in their tracks. Literal _years_ of etiquette went away in mere months in the countryside; mistakes were made. The woman seemed to be offended, and crossed her arms in a slightly threatening manner, and Ichigo was sure that, had she been closer to him, she would have kicked his shins hard enough for the pain to carry on through the next week.

" Keep your plants half dead then, fool; I am not one to speak the same thing twice. "

She had short hair, and her long bangs fell gracefully between her amethyst eyes. Ichigo squinted. _There was something very familiar about those eyes_. Still, even in his half-broken reverie, Ichigo knew he had been rude, and bowed to her, apologising deeply.

" In my defense, I have been living alone here, and no one has come to visit before," Ichigo continued, still sizing up the young woman. In her pastel yukata, she seemed maybe a bit older than him, but not by much, and there was something off-putting about her, surreal even, beyond the smooth skin and poise.

" Hmph. And who are you, oh! so lone traveler?" she inquired, her eyes glinting.

" My name is Ichigo K– not until you tell me yours first." Stopping himself right before giving away his whole name, Ichigo was pretty sure she had heard just enough anyway; the woman nodded her head pleasantly, and it reminded Ichigo of the noblewomen of the court, vipers in hiding.

Genuine venom used ingeniously could win wars not started yet, in the world he was supposed to reign over.

" True names hold power, Ichigo, and handing yours so freely is either a sign of great bravery, or great stupidity. " Ichigo scoffed, and the laugh she let out would have been incredibly pleasant, if not directed at him. 

" Then why ask if you are not going to give yours? " he asked, though other than annoyance, his tone held no bite to it.

" Rukia, " she said simply, before getting closer and kneeling beside him, showing him how to properly tend to his plants. Glancing at her every now and then, Ichigo wondered who exactly was this person.

Rukia.

He rolled her name in his mouth, echoing in his mind. Rukia was beautiful, but underneath the beauty, there was something that made Ichigo's skin buzz.

Even he could tell that Rukia was not who she appeared to be, and Rukia was dangerous – for a brief moment, Ichigo thought of his strange furry companion, and wondered if she was the one who led Rukia to him, a protector or a killer.

Looking up at him through her eyelashes and smiling gently at him, Ichigo felt a bit dizzy. 

A protector or a killer.

Ichigo didn't think he could handle her being both.

While Rukia seemed to visit from time to time, always at a completely random time, more often than not the fox seemed content to just cuddle with him in the mornings.

This new development came easily after one day, while writing his report to the head of the guards and espionage service, he mindlessly let his fingers roam in the soft fur of the fox, who had seemed curious enough to come and sit with him. After flinching slightly, she relaxed and laid her head on Ichigo's thigh, flicking her ears playfully. If Ichigo got distracted and his report was slightly sloppier than usual, well, he supposed Yoruichi wouldn't mind that much.

That morning was no exception, and Ichigo did his best to raise without disturbing the small fur ball, and even gently placing her under the covers. 

Life in the countryside was uneventful for the most part, and while Ichigo might have been safer in Karakura, he definitely missed the court life, with Tatsuki, his partner in crime and the only one who managed to almost pull his teeth in practice, and Uryuu, his advisor who doubled as an ever-disappointed personal tailor, and Orihime, one of his oldest friends, whose cooking skills were… questionable at best, used for torture and interogation at worst; and even the feelings they had for each other that everyone knew about and that they still refused to acknowledge.

Sighing deeply, Ichigo rolled his shoulders and proceeded with his routine, eager to start practicing with the clumsy dummy Ichigo managed to put together. Stripping to his thick, black hakama and wrapping his hands with the battered bandages he always used, Ichigo picked up Zangetsu from his designated space, at the head of the futon. 

The fox had vanished, but she seemed to understand the idea that he folded the sheets after waking up, so she left the bedding neat, if covered with a few strands of hair. Ichigo shrugged, but he was easily impressed by his companion. Stretching, Ichigo felt his back muscles flexing, sore, but in a pleasant way, before finally making way out of the hut.

Behind the small building, and the farthest away from the vegetables garden (he really couldn't risk the plants going on strike and dying because of personal reasons), Ichigo had cleared enough space for a small training field. The air was still chilly, and Ichigo resisted a shiver, before unsheathing Zangetsu, the familiar gleam of the black blade bringing back the comfort of happier memories.

Taking three steps forward, Ichigo fell into familiar stances, dancing with the dust.

*

On any normal day, anyone who knew Rukia even remotely would describe her as aloof, proper and empowered by a strong sense of decency, with a stone cold face and even colder demeanour. 

On that particular day, though, Rukia stared dumbfounded at the sight before her, grateful that Ichigo had his back at her and that there still was a small chance of saving the last remaining crumbs of her dignity.

Rukia knew that revealing herself to Ichigo might be dangerous, but he himself just had such a genuine, pure aura around him, which definitely crashed with his ever-scowly face and overall 'dangerous' persona he created for himself and wore like a second skin. 

Besides, even with his insane amount of reiatsu, Rukia was a powerful and experienced zenko; in the off-chance she would not win, she would put up a hell of a fight. The constant presence of Inari in her mind, though dimmer when Rukia was in her human form, buzzed pleasantly, agreeing with her.

If the very same presence also seemed to be teasing her about her totally-not-blush, well, energy was fickle anyway, and up to interpretation.

Right as she was about to shift back and make a quick exit, _that_ was the moment Ichigo decided to turn around and saw her; Rukia could only imagine what he saw then: a petite woman with messy hair clothed in an obnoxiously pale kimono for it to belong to a villager, pale skin now warm and embarrassingly red, doe eyes averted to the ground.

_Thank Kami Byakuya-nii-sama could not see her now, because that was definitely not in the Kuchiki 101 Handbook (new edition) he gave her_.

Truth be told, Rukia would be lying if she said that she had never seen bodies in various states of undress before, so she efficiently slipped back into the serene, aloof Kuchiki clan headspace. She waved at him, leaning against one of the closest dummies– she was intimately acquainted with the human body and the pain and the pleasure that came with it, but Ichigo was, beautiful; and it really didn’t take any more than a pair of decent eyes and a little bit of common sense to notice that.

“Yo, Rukia! What are you doing here?” Ichigo said when he was close enough that she could hear him panting slightly from the effort. In a fleeting moment, Rukia wondered what it would be like to spar with him and see their reiatsu clash and charge at the other.

“Can’t I be a good neighbour and see how are the strawberries from the yard?” Her tone was teasing, although she lifted the small shovel she was holding and waved it at him with a small smile. Rukia had a habit of looking people in the eye (which made her good at what she did, which usually involved tricking people), but Ichigo seemed pretty intent on avoiding her gaze, his face and ears still red. _How hard had he been practicing?!_

“Tsk, you know where the garden is, Midget, why do you even bother trying to show me. At this point the crows picking at my crops are more useful than me.” He frowned, but it held no malice, as both of them chuckled heartily as Rukia playfully punched his arm. He ruffled her hair, but then dodged faster than Rukia’s attempt to smack him, which prompted a play catch– Rukia did _not_ lose, she just had shorter legs.

That didn’t stop her from throwing a few nuts from the satchel she had brought for him at his head (and landing an honorable number of 3 out of 5).

A friend. Ichigo was her friend.

Unprompted, Rukia smiled brightly, and while Ichigo seemed a bit dizzy and confused, returned her smile, a new and strange softness around his eyes. She liked it.

In the novelty and fuzziness of the moment, the zenko completely missed the zanpakuto sheathed on his hip, and the way Sode no Shirayuki seemed to still in response. Rukia may have been in tune with her sword, but she didn’t speak the language of the blades.

Oh, and how much trouble that would have saved.

*

Ichigo started to miss the presence of the fox in his house, since it started visiting less and less often, now that she did not have to steal his eggs to help Kiyoko-san and her children– which reminded Ichigo so much of his baby sisters that it hurt sometimes; it was too dangerous to send and receive letters from them, but he hoped Yuzu and Karin were alright. The widow had opened her door and offered to acquaint him with the rest of the village, but Ichigo politely declined (or as politely one could decline, when one was panicking on the inside and sweating profusely), as he needed to stay as anonymous as possible.

Still, whenever he visited, Ichigo felt like he was being watched, although never in a threatening manner.

On the other hand, though, the only friend he allowed himself to make, was visiting more frequently, and she actually helped him with the household chores he sheepishly admitted to having no idea how to go about. Rukia just shook her head in a fond manner that reminded Ichigo of Orihime and his mother, but patiently showed him how to properly tie the stems, make some soap and even sew. 

Rukia was– Ichigo couldn’t really describe her, but the first word that came to mind was _strange_. She lived close to the forest, yet he had never seen her home. She seemed so young, but the way she talked reminded Ichigo of the scrolls he had to read in Ancient Studies back at the palace and the archaic words no one used anymore. She seemed so cold, yet she still stuck around and befriended him, and even helped him with the housework like a parent would teach a child.

Even as he was thinking about it, Ichigo sat next to Rukia while she was showing him how to cook a soup that for once didn’t taste like dirt and raw potatoes (though Orihime would probably call his soup _experimental_ and _bold_ ; that did not make him feel any better). Rukia was kind, and Ichigo really appreciated it, trying to mimic the stirring motion she had shown him before he got distracted by – well, Ichigo was tall by all standards, and he was just as aware of it as he was of his oddly coloured hair, and Rukia was so short he could pick her up without even trying too much and just, from his angle, the way her eyes reflected the golden glow of the fire and the slightly blue-ish hue of her hair, she looked. Ethereal.

“... so I sacrificed the chicken to please our Lord Satan, right, Ichigo?”

Whatever Ichigo was expecting, that was really not it.

“WHAT?!” he choked, eyes bulging out and staring wildly at her shaking form and teary eyes.

She was laughing.

At him.

“That was rude, Midget” Ichigo pouted while she calmed down, accidentally elbowing him in the ribs. At his scandalised expression, Rukia was hysterical, flaunting the wooden spoon so wildly, Ichigo briefly wondered how useful it would be as a self defense weapon.

In Rukia’s hands? Very useful, apparently.

Five minutes, three bruises and one slightly imbalanced wrestling match later, Ichigo had finally emerged victorious with the wooden spoon while Rukia sat behind him at the low table, looking at him with something he couldn’t quite read, before she grinned, showing him her secret weapon – the wooden paddle.

Oh no. 

_Here we go again_.

*

Something terrible was coming.

Something really terrible was going to happen, and it ticked Rukia in all the wrong ways. 

After years of living on the run, being hunted and seen as either a prize to be won or forcefully taken, Rukia had come to terms with the fact that her paranoia saved her life too many times not to be trusted. Even Sode no Shirayuki felt more stiff in her hands when she performed her rituals at the small shrine in her hut, and Inari’s energy that flowed freely through her was almost weary.

The skies had already started to grey. 

As the keeper of the Karakura forest, Rukia did her best to balance the lives of those living on each side of the Veil, yokai and humans alike, and while it had been some time since she had to actually fight for their safety, she was ready to bare her fangs at anyone who was even remotely thinking about ruining the fragile equilibrium in her small corner of the world.

At the break of dawn, Rukia felt the tiredness seeping through her bones and could not remember clearly when was the last time she got a good night’s sleep, but maintaining the barrier strong required clockwork rituals, and the entire hut smelled like incense and smoke. Getting up, Rukia was engulfed by the cold morning air and she sighed, hugging herself. 

The cold never bothered her, anyway. Right?

With practiced movements, Rukia put on her ceremonial kimono and tied her obi with a red string. Here, in the safety of the hut, she didn't bother with hiding her true form, white fox ears perched on top of her head and three tails swishing against her legs as she walked, the colour of blood-stained snow. 

Rukia tied the small ritualic bells with red ribbons on her wrists and ankles, and tucked one in her obi, pinning her hair into a bun with a red comb that bore the mark of Inari, which was mirrored on the twin fans that had been left unfolded in front of the shrine the previous night.

The candle that had been lit with mere hours before, was not burning anymore.

With that she started to hum, moving her bare feet on the cold floor. In an odd way, that gave her strength and made her go on, flaring the fans with choreographed movements, channeling her reiatsu.

Kitsune were not known for their immense reiatsu, but that didn't stop Rukia from expanding her barrier around her space, feeling the forest thrumming under her fingers.

She had called for their help, and they were answering. All pulsing like one, a single, steady heartbeat.

Rukia twirled, and the sunlight caught in the rim of a fan, golden in the blue hue of the morning. The room started moving with her, and her eyes could see both real and unreal, human and creatures molding together; the cacophony of surrounding sounds blurred her vision, and then they stilled suddenly.

A knock.

Another one, more urgent.

Forcing herself to go through the steps, Rukia lifted an arm above her head, almost pulling out the comb in her haste. Rukia twirled and kneeled; she was almost done. She was so close, she just had to say her prayer and–

"Rukia? Are you here?" 

She froze, and everything seemed to freeze with her, but then she placed the fans down, crossing them in front of the shrine, muttering her prayer in languages some would deem demonic, some would deem angelic. To Rukia, it was just the call of the wilderness, a question answered.

But with her concentration loose and lack of focus, instead of directing it straight into the shrine, a burst of incredibly powerful magic left her and threw the door wide open; candles blew out and were lit again, and the incense she was supposed to _light_ _gently_ with the concentrated magic she was harnessing earlier, was half burnt like a New Year's firework.

Rukia was grateful that she was already kneeling, because she felt her grasp on consciousness slipping, before she remembered.

Ichigo.

Ichigo was probably there, probably behind her, probably wondering what was the meaning of all that. 

He definitely felt the burst of energy; with as much reiatsu as he had, there was no possible way he had missed it.

Rukia tried to turn around, but as she felt herself collapsing, she felt him stand behind her, his hands steady on her arms. Then, Sode no Shirayuki started glowing, the bright light burning white in the hut, an echo of the dark light coming from Ichigo's sword.

A word floated in Rukia's mind, foreign yet still familiar.

His name was Zangetsu.

And with that, she blacked out.

*

After two weeks have passed with no visit from Rukia, Ichigo started getting worried. While he was well aware that she could defend herself just fine, the shadows were home to silence and malice alike. 

Besides, one afternoon while sipping tea, Kiyoko-san told him in a hushed tone that the forest was filled with yokai, and that there was kitsune watching over it – Ichigo may not have been a believer, but he knew better than to let his guard down. 

And Rukia lived alone in the forest.

Picking Zangetsu in a rush and tightening his thin obi, Ichigo dashed out. The clouds were getting increasingly darker, as if the upcoming storm was taunting them. A dash of lightning pierced the sky, though there was no thunder to follow. 

Saying that Ichigo had never looked for Rukia’s cottage would be a lie; he always offered to walk her home after the dark settled, but she always denied, her voice revealing a sharp edge whenever he would try to push, softening when Rukia realised it was out of worry for her. While he never tried to follow her because he didn’t want to break her trust, whenever Ichigo found himself walking along the edge of the forest, he could not help but look and wonder. 

She said she lived close by, and that must be right considering how quickly she brought things whenever she needed them, following a straight path that Ichigo did not know, could not see. He had no idea where to go, and venturing in a maze filled to the brim with yokai really was not on his list of things he wanted to do before he died.

Especially not since shortly after Rukia started visiting him, Ichigo began to see things that by all means _should not exist_. As much as he wanted to talk to Rukia about it, how could he bring up the fact that he felt like wherever he looked, beings from old women’s tales bloomed in his peripheral view ? Maybe he was going insane from the seclusion…

This time though, Ichigo felt the pull into the forest, leading him straight and true. Ichigo felt his muscles tense, ready for a fight, although it felt like the nature around him cleared his path with deference, letting him see what he had been forbidden to. As if walking in a dream, he could hear the faint sound of branches cracking under his sandals far from him, and the colours shifted subtly the farther he went.

Suddenly, Ichigo found himself standing in front of a small hut, the dark wood well kept and expensive, wondering how he had missed it. Glancing through the small window, he saw flickers of fabric, white and red and silver. 

Ichigo could hear no other sound than his own heartbeat booming in his ears.

It took him four long strides to reach the door, before he knocked once, unsure. _What if this was not Rukia’s cottage?_ It had to be, Kiyoko-san said that no one ever stepped closer to the Veiled Forest until they absolutely had to, and building a nice cottage with foreign wood was definitely not fitting the description,

Something definitely changed after the knock though, so he repeated the motion, knuckles hitting the cold surface lightly. “Rukia?” he asked, then cleared his throat imperceptibly, trying not to let his worry seep through the cracks of his voice. “Are you here?”

No response. Just as he was about to knock once more, he picked up on words flowing freely in a language he didn’t understand, feeling like an incantation that was wrapping itself around the cottage, around him and extending forward like a ring made of barely perceptible light. Like lightning.

Then followed thunder.

A gust of energy shook his entire being, and the door was almost pulled from its hinges, creaking terribly. Alarmed, Ichigo felt some kind of chill shaking his body from within, though he ignored it in favour of stepping inside, seeing Rukia kneeling on the floor in front of an impressive shrine. _Was she a miko?_

Ichigo didn’t have time to wonder, because she started faltering when trying to stand, and Ichigo lunged forward, almost diving to catch her. Rukia seemed to know it was him, and relaxed into his chest, until she went limp altogether. Resting his head on top of hers, Ichigo felt something strange, yet familiar, that seemed like… fluffy ears? Looking down, Ichigo noticed the red strands with bells on ends that clinked for other ears to hear, because his ears started ringing from pressure. He was surrounded with a blinding light that filled the room, and Ichigo closed his eyes, though that did nothing to ease his senses.

_Something_ felt deeply wrong.

That’s when Ichigo felt it, the foreign presence in his mind. On his thigh, Zangetsu was warm and felt like it was vibrating from within.

_Master?_

Ichigo did not freak out, but that was only because he was too shocked to say anything. Those were definitely not his thoughts. When he opened his eyes again, he saw a red ribbon floating around him and Rukia tying them together, but disappearing so fast Ichigo thought it was a hallucination.

The force pressing his body down was definitely not a hallucination though, and neither was the cold blade digging into his neck.

*

In the middle of a meeting with the imperial advisors, Yoruichi Shihouin rose suddenly from her place at the same time the doors burst open, a disheveled Kisuke Urahara making his way into the room against the scandalised guards trying to stop him.

“The seal has been broken.”

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What should have been a one-shot might have gotten *a bit* out of hand. I have nothing to confess :)

Regardless of how much Rukia wanted to convince herself that she was not a dreamer, not by a long shot, she was in no position to say that she had never thought about waking up next to Ichigo, beyond guarding him in her fox form and sometimes taking the liberties to cuddle with him when he started sweating, agitated in his sleep; curling somewhere close to him and using her reiatsu to soothe him and drive away the nightmares he kept having about a beautiful blonde woman that reminded Rukia of the late Empress.

However, waking up sprawled on the floor in her ritualic kimono, her entire body sore and aching, next to a barely conscious Ichigo that groaned in pain, was definitely not in her book.

It took Rukia a moment of clarity to be simultaneously hit by three epiphanies (and a terrible headache, human bodies be damned):

First, Ichigo was there, which meant she was right and he somehow managed to pass through the Veil. Second, she barely managed to finish the ritual before the energy gust literally shook the living daylights out of her, and it was too soon to perform another ritual to check if the barrier was holding up. Third, if the fact that Ichigo had a zanpakuto was not that shocking, Shirayuki’s closeness to Zangetsu was, unnerving at the very least. Rukia blushed and tried to kick away the mental image, with Inari’s sussured tone laughing at her. The _physical_ form of Sode no Shirayuki, with her white blade gleaming in the low light, stood crossed by a thin black blade, the red ribbon tied around his hilt leading to Ichigo.

Forcing herself to move, Rukia tried to get up, visually checking the man for any obvious wounds. Pointed ears flickered in his direction when Ichigo groaned again, his eyes opening at last.

“Rukia?” 

On her knees, she crawled the little distance between them. Rukia placed one hand on the back of his head, and the other one on his chest, reprimanding him with a sharp glare when he tried to get up too quickly. Still, Ichigo was known for his apparent disregard to any kind of rules, even if they were made for his own good.

Blinking slowly, Ichigo straightened his back and checked his head for any bumps, before looking back at Rukia. This close, he was taller than her – and by _taller_ , she meant _much_ taller. Before she even got to say anything, strong arms pulled her to his chest.

 _Warm,_ was the only thing Rukia could think before relaxing into his touch. _He’s so warm_.

“I am so glad you are alright! I thought something bad happened to you and I–” he stopped brusquely, realising how tight he was holding her and allowing her to put some distance between them. Surprising both of them, Rukia didn’t move much, bewitched by his heartbeat. 

“I am glad you are alright too, but now could you please explain what were you trying to achieve by basically kicking my door down, Your Highness?” Rukia teased him, pleased that her joke landed when she felt him suddenly tensing around her. 

Ichigo opened his mouth for a few seconds without saying anything, before Rukia’s barely concealed laughter gave away the fact that she was just playing with him. Her attempt at berating him failed in the exact same way his scowl held no real displeasure.

“Well, excuse me, next time I’ll make sure to leave the lady that lives alone in a forest that is rumoured to be haunted to deal with it on her own.” 

As the protector of the forest and its inhabitants, Rukia snorted in the most ungraceful way possible; the Kuchikis have the range to be anything, after all, not just elegant aristocrats with dignity. Ichigo’s gaze scanned her, and Rukia felt as if she was naked; she had nowhere to hide, and suddenly she started feeling self conscious about the dark circles around her eyes, the hollowness of her cheeks, the thinness of her wrists, and she wondered. What exactly was it that Ichigo saw when he looked at her?

“I think… I think it wouldn’t be the ghosts you would have problems with though…” he continued, his voice dropping to a breathless whisper as he took in her ears and the three tails that must have appeared after the energy shock. There was no denying what she was, now that he stood in front of her. Rukia nodded slowly, and offered a small, crooked smile.

“Well, the yokai are pretty nice if you don’t bother them too much. The question is, what exactly are _you_ , Ichigo.”

Amber eyes flickered in confusion, although he didn’t say anything. There was no way he didn’t know, he must have – he must have known! Rukia didn’t wait for an answer before getting up, suddenly remembering what exactly brought them in that position. She held out an arm to Ichigo to help him up as well – which didn’t work that great, considering he was almost twice as heavy and the only thing that kept Rukia from being brought to the ground was sheer determination. 

At the back of her mind, Shirayuki appeared, clad in her white ceremonial robes; alone. And blushing. That was the moment when it just _clicked_.

Whatever Ichigo was, it didn’t really matter; their souls were intertwined nonetheless.

*

Ichigo had seen some better days, _much better days_ , if he were being honest. He could cut off storming in a kitsune cottage in the middle of the forest from his bucket list, at least.

Swallowing dry, Ichigo stood aside as Rukia moved quickly and efficiently in the small space of her home. She downright forbade him to touch any of the utensils that were even mildly related to cooking, so he resigned to watching her cook breakfast for the two of them. Ichigo thought that this might be the first time she actually cooked a decent meal for herself since she stopped visiting, and he took it upon himself to take care of that. Kitsune or not, Rukia was his friend.

The fact that Rukia was a kitsune did not really shock him as much as he would have expected, and that confused Ichigo to some degree. While he didn’t know her that well, there was something about the energy that floated around her that felt _familiar_ , like another missing piece of the golden puzzle. Besides, if Rukia wanted to harm him, she would have let him eat his own food when she had the occasion.

The last thing Ichigo wanted was to seem like a creep, so he adjusted his position until the two crossed blades on the floor caught his eye. The low buzz in his blood seemed to intensify again, the way it did before being thrown to the ground by what Ichigo could only guess was some kind of energy – he made a mental note to take the prayers more seriously once he returned to the Capital. Ichigo had always known that Zangetsu was special from any other blade, an extension of himself and _a blade that would never dull_ , Ichigo recalled his father’s words from a distant memory; in that particular moment, Ichigo thought he could _hear_ Zangetsu’s voice echoing in his mind, raspy and deep, as if it’s been a long time since he talked last. 

Watching the two swords crossed on the floor though, Ichigo wondered if it truly was just his imagination. The buzz seemed to dim again, a mild prickling feeling under his skin.

His reverie was broken when Rukia started placing the bowls on the table, and Ichigo rose to his feet, offering to help. Whatever intention of denying him the kitsune might have had, it quickly died on her lips as he took the rest of things from her hands, placing them carefully on the table. Lifting her head to look at him, Rukia smiled at him, and Ichigo noticed the slight tremor of her hands and the way her shoulders slumped forward, so he waited until she was seated and sent him a pointed look before doing the same.

Rukia blessed the food, and Ichigo thanked her for her hospitality before picking up the chopsticks. They ate in silence, though it was not the same easy, comfortable silence that usually settled after they cooked together, throwing vegetables at each other or pretending to spar with wooden paddles. There were questions suspended above their heads, but they chose to look down for the time being, enjoying the last bit of the normalcy they built between the two of them for the past months.

Ichigo knew that something fundamental changed, despite not knowing exactly _what_ ; they were still the same Ichigo and Rukia, but who exactly were Ichigo and Rukia, anyway? He didn’t really know her, and she was a _kitsune_ , of all things. Pulling tricks was her nature, but he still couldn’t bring himself to be wary, to think that she was a stranger. Perhaps that was the most dangerous trick she could have pulled on him.

“I am not going to trick you, Ichigo.” she said out of the blue, startling Ichigo enough for him to drop the chopsticks in the soup. “And no, I am not reading your mind either. But let’s just say that you’re like an open book, and that’s probably the first thing you’d think about me. I am a Zenko, so I am not going to bring you to your doom.”

Rukia tried to joke, but ended up sighing instead. Ichigo was used to being judged only from stories and appearances, and wanted to reach across the table and squeeze her hand reassuringly, but he refrained. 

“Is your name Rukia?” Ichigo asked suddenly, though deep down he already knew the answer. Rukia looked at him as if suddenly grew a second head, before he clarified, “Your real name, it’s Rukia, right?”

Still, confused, Rukia leaned back in her chair and pulled her knees to her chest, leaning her chin forward on them and nodded. Ichigo flashed her a smile and got up, gathering the bowls and chopsticks, passing next to her to get them washed.

“Then I trust you, Rukia, because giving me your true name was either a sign of great bravery, or great stupidity.” 

Ichigo dodged a hit that never came. Instead, with her big purple eyes half closed, Rukia laughed.

After doing the dishes, Ichigo insisted that he helped her with the chores against Rukia’s weak protests. They still decided to ignore the elephant in the room, and it almost felt like any other day, if Ichigo ignored Rukia’s tails and ears, that turned in his direction whenever he laughed breathily at one of her sassy remarks. 

Eventually they got around to tending to her garden, which was everything what Ichigo wished his garden would look like, and basically the farthest thing from reality. He scolded himself mentally though, since his garden looked so much better now than it did before he met the little kitsune. They were close together, with Rukia holding the small shovel in such a way that Ichigo could see exactly what she was doing, leaning toward him until they were basically touching; oddly enough, she smelled like snow and lavender. Ichigo bent down over her small figure, trying to observe exactly what she was doing, her movements slowing down, until the slight tremor of her hand disappeared completely. Ichigo was about to ask her what was going on, when he finally felt her leaning against him completely, her breath evening out. Laughing soundlessly and careful not to wake her up, Ichigo picked her up and gathered her close to his chest, his light steps taking them both back to the cottage; she seemed more pale then ever and the circles beneath her eyes making worry curl in the pit of his stomach. And if Ichigo felt watched, no being made itself seen, acknowledging him with deference.

He closed the door, and gently put the small kitsune down on bed in the corner, unfolding the neat sheets at the foot of the bed and covering her with them, before he felt something small and cold gripping his hand – asleep, Rukia had reached for him; and what else could he do, but stay?

Ichigo grinned. If she were awake, Rukia would probably kill him for seeing her like this. 

Still, after hearing her soft breathing, Ichigo thought it was worth it.

*

Having lived for so long in a strict environment that pushed her to be perfect and pristine, Rukia was used to doing things on her own – why ask for help when you could do it on your own, exactly the way you want it to be? Still, as much as she hated to admit it, Ichigo was, helpful. 

Helpful, and a sneaky bastard.

It started subtly, a few days after waking in her bed with no recollection of how she got there. After performing her morning duties, carefully placing down the ritualic fans, Rukia moved soundlessly to the door, opening it to find the bucket she left empty the night before, filled with clear water, next to a few eggs and vegetables left in a small bowl that Rukia knew too well. Purple eyes narrowed, although the culprit was already gone, only the faintest hints of Ichigo's reiatsu lingering in the air. Who did he think he was? She glared at no one in particular, slightly offended; she could take care of herself just fine, thank you.

Still, bending down to pick up the items Rukia could feel her exhausted muscles stretch painfully. She was tired, Rukia knew that, but there was too much at stake to just let everything go down in flames. 

She'll sleep when she's dead, anyway.

With some minor difficulties, the kitsune managed to bring everything inside and close the door behind her without dropping anything. Starting up the fire and grabbing the rice and the pot, all Rukia could think were the potential lines she could utter to mental Ichigo – and later, to the real one – that would shred his pride, stirring away with a malefically satisfied expression on her face, occasionally munching on a carrot.

Oh, those carrots were really good, she'd have to ask him about the seeds later–

Rukia shook her head, trying (and failing) to bring back the thoughts about revenge and bloodthirst. Ichigo was so thoughtful, it was unnerving. And annoying. And upsetting. And endearing, but only a little bit. 

She didn't notice the small note laying on the bottom of the bowl until after she got everything out and heard paper crinkling. It was covered in leftover dirt from the vegetables, but not to the point of illegibility – besides, Ichigo's penmanship was gorgeous in such a way that made Rukia immediately think of Byakuya and his passion for calligraphy. Amused at the exchange the two men would have in a parallel Universe where they knew each other, Rukia shook her head and read.

_These are some of the first vegetables from my garden! Aren't they neat? Although at this point it is more like your garden (while you are being entertained by yours truly), so I come in peace._

_P.S. Whoever thought that building the well so far away from every living being, should totally not be afraid; I just want to talk._

Rukia was not sure what made her bellicose thoughts go away completely, but the strongest contender was probably the clumsy stickman drawn with a smiling face that seemed to capture perfectly the homicidal tendencies of the artist.

After learning about the gravity of the situation when it comes to Ichigo's cooking – a tragedy in five acts, truly – it became a routine they built where Rukia would come visit around lunchtime and prepare something for the both of them; at first they ate in silence, which somehow turned into laughing at stories they made up about the people from the village they saw sometimes. It was comfortable, leaning on the small round table in Ichigo's cottage, before she eventually had to leave to tend to her own home, eventually offering advice and guidance to wayward yokai who happened to stumble too close to the veil.

But then that routine started shifting too. And while sometimes Rukia spent whole days with Ichigo trying to clean his cottage and maybe fix his windows (which were beyond any salvation, divine or otherwise), he started accompanying her back home, wordlessly taking care of the lumbering and filling the buckets with fresh water. It got to the point where even the yokai got used to him (although being engulfed by Rukia's distinctive reiatsu probably helped), and together they tended to the injuries of beings that Ichigo has probably never even thought about.

He had patience, and his low, hushed tones and natural kindness built an easy trust between him and the suffering. A distant thought that passed through Rukia's mind was that he could have been such an extraordinary healer.

Rukia, on the other hand, was quick, and cold and sharp enough to make decisions about the justice of the forest and the territorial issues; her voice was warm, though, when she guided kids back to their parents, or when she helped the lost to be found. Ichigo was by no means _soft_ , but his innate genuineness could sometimes cloud his judgement; he stood a few paces behind Rukia as she did what she knew best – not ruled, but guided. 

Ichigo was still human after all, but he knew that these were her people, and he showed her deference for it, a deep sense of understanding in his amber eyes, a kinship of kinds.

Rukia did her best not to open the bond between them until Ichigo wanted to know about everything that happened, and maybe ask questions she didn't know the answers to. He didn't ask, and she didn't pry, and even did her best to ignore the warmth, _his_ warmth, that still managed to find its way through her barriers, pooling in her chest.

With Ichigo, everything was easy, from doing the dishes and painting the walls of his cottage, to having him assist during her rituals silently, to Rukia dragging him and showing him how to climb on top of her own cottage (though she suspected it was a lot easier for Ichigo, the tree in disguise) and stargazing in silence; he had never seen the skies so clear, though he knew the constellations and guided her through them, whispering conspiratively about foreign stories about heroes and monsters. 

Rukia laughed with mirth; if yokai existed, what made them think that their heroes and monsters were any more of a myth? 

They left the lamp inside before climbing to the roof, and as the darkness thickened like fog around them, they stood in silence. As a kitsune, Rukia had no issues with the dark, her eyes focused on the steady rise and fall of Ichigo’s chest. Visualising herself in her fox form, she could feel Ichigo being startled near her, looking at her with curiosity. 

Curling in a small ball near his side, Rukia felt the weight of his warm hand dragging along her spine, petting gently. Closing her eyes, she thought there was no reason she shouldn’t enjoy moments like this, pretending that she was not tied by duties and he didn’t wear secrecy like a mask she couldn’t see through. Rukia didn’t ask, and Ichigo had nothing to lie about; they could be friends even without knowing what tragedy might otherwise part them.

Yes, nothing stopped her from pretending, if only for a little while.

*

“Morning, Your Hig– Ichigo, I was not made aware that you would be having _guests_.”

It took Yoruichi, Urahara and Kyouraku exactly 6 weeks to arrive after the _incident_ from the cottage, which made Ichigo incredibly suspicious, considering that his trip from the capital took at least twice as much. What exactly were they doing in such close proximity, when the point of the entire operation was not attracting attention?

Those five days went in a blur, an odd combination of reality and everything Ichigo thought to be his imagination playing tricks on him. With endless patience, Rukia sat him down and explained everything that he wanted to know. They ended up laying on their back on the grey rug she had in the hut, stargazing at the stars she conjured on the ceiling – an easy illusion she extended around them like a safety bubble. Ichigo asked, and Rukia answered. The Veil, the forest, the yokai, all these were kept a secret from humans, and for good reason, but the man himself was not entirely human, and if he already had a Zanpakuto, Rukia decided he had to know the barest minimum at least.

Urahara coughed politely, while his husband coughed to hide his laughter, seeing the Chief of Security ready to tear Ichigo a new one. Still, Rukia has been restless since the break of dawn, when she knocked at his door and almost got herself a ticket to the afterlife, courtesy of Zangetsu. Stealing a glance at her now, Ichigo was surprised to see her pale for a second, before regaining her composure and raising to her feet, bowing in a manner that was more alike to that of a soldier.

“General Shihouin.”

“Look what the fox dragged in. Why, hello, Lady Kuchiki.” 

Yoruichi’s eyes gleamed golden, and Ichigo knew for sure that he was missing something from what was happening right in front of him. Suddenly reminded of his status, Ichigo straightened his back and cleared his throat, calling the attention of the room.

“Yoruichi, I was not aware you know Rukia either. Welcome to Karakura Town, to what do I owe the visit?”

Ichigo must have been blind not to catch the wolfish grin Yoruichi when she heard Rukia’s name, or the way Rukia herself blushed and looked away.

Urahara stepped forward, his ever present bucket hat hiding his eyes from sight.

“Well, Highness, I think there is a lot to unpack here.” 

*

It was a sight to behold, two members of the Imperial Council, Yoruichi Shihouin, who could single handedly take down a small army by herself, a small kitsune who once again seemed wary (though for a different reason this time) and Ichigo himself, seated around his small table in the main room. After Rukia finished pouring the tea for everyone in the tea set she brought from her own home (since Ichigo did not have any need or foresight to have one himself), a few moments passed in an awkward silence.

For some reason, Ichigo felt protective over the kitsune, despite having witnessed just how powerful she was. Her posture was exemplary, though the tension in her shoulders and the calculating glances did not go unnoticed. That was perhaps the moment when Ichigo realised that something extremely odd was going on – the buzz from earlier returned, albeit not as unsettling, as if his body was getting adjusted to it. Instead, the air around Rukia seemed to vibrate, the colours around her impossibly bright in their complexity, even with the concealing charms she used on this side of the Veil; turning his head to look around, the same thing seemed to happen with Yoruichi and to a lesser extent, Kyoraku. Urahara was completely blank, _normal_ even, but that only succeeded in making Ichigo more paranoid. 

_What the hell was going on?!_

“So,” Ichigo broke the silence at last, “ is anyone going to explain what is happening, or are we going to pretend that we are enjoying this tea party with borrowed cutlery?”

Urahara cleared his throat, but Kyoraku spoke first. “Well, considering that there are some _new developments_ that likely have to do with this young lady here,” he nodded towards Rukia, “I think that you deserve to know the true reason for your departure from the Capital.”

“So I was right when I said it had nothing to do with the prospects of an invasion, as you said.” Ichigo felt restless, and he remembered with clarity the moment Isshin almost ordered him to go, not even bothering to hear his protests. While his dad was never the same after his mum had died, Ichigo had never seen him so serious, dark eyes steeled in what resembled the fearsome leader Ichigo had only heard stories about. _It is for your own good, Your Highness_ , they repeated to him, until all he heard as an incoherent mix of whispers in his ear.

And then they sent him off in Karakura, a town in the middle of nowhere, with his Zanpakuto, as they had taken to calling Zangetsu, a few changes of clothes, and a few bags that were not even filled with gold, since that attracted too much attention. If he didn’t know better, Ichigo would have thought that he was being punished for something he almost certainly didn’t do – breaking a few rules here and there just made life interesting after all, but not to _that_ extent. 

Ichigo would be damned if he didn’t have some questions, but first things first.

“Is Father alright? Yuzu and Karin?” The twins were sent off together in the same carriage, a little while before he was.

“Other than a few additional grey hairs, Isshin is just as you remember him. And your sisters are all the way up north, under the protection of Lord Kuchiki.” Yoruichi moved around in her seat, gesticulating in a perfectly controlled manner, with such fluidity that the tea didn’t spill at all. _Kuchiki?_ Where had he heard that name before?

Rukia. Didn’t Yoruichi address her as Lady Kuchiki? Ichigo scrunched his eyebrows. What was she doing then so far East in the mountains, in a village that did not even appear on some maps? 

And maybe more importantly, how did General Shihouin and Lady Kuchiki know each other?

Too many questions to answer with the amount of information he had, but he listened attentively, resorting to stealing glances at Rukia every now and then, observing the way she perked up at the mention of her uncle? Brother? Husband?

Ichigo ignored the sudden flare in the buzz of his blood at that thought, thinking it was weird how such a strong gust of wind entered the house in the exact same moment, with all the windows closed. In his peripheral view, Ichigo saw Yoruichi tilting her head in Rukia’s direction, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Even more annoyed at being left out of the loop, Ichigo swallowed dry and waited for Kyoraku to continue.

“ You might be aware that there are plenty of stories that talk about Yokai, mythological creatures that wreak havoc or substantially improve the lives of those who encounter them. They are –”

“Real, yes, I know. I even met one,” Ichigo scowled, cutting him off in what could have been considered rude in any other situation. “ What does that have to do with anything?” 

Ultimately, he decided against telling them who that one yokai was, lest they didn’t know about Rukia and risking to deconspire her. Under the table, her hand found his and squeezed it gently.

“ As there are Yokai, their magic is based on their soul energy, called reiatsu. It is the core source of energy for everything around us, although this world has considerably less reiatsu than what happens in the world that is tangent to it, the Land beyond the Veil.”

“Humans have very little reiatsu, usually, but there are exceptions – people who are born with massive amounts of soul energy, and who can interact easily with the Yokai. One of those people was your father, the current emperor, Isshin, who was part of one of the oldest families who had such high reiatsu reserves, and spent his childhood playing with Yokai.” Urahara continued, before Yoruichi muttered under her breath _And he was a damn handful then too_. “But unlike him, there are other people who use this ability to cause harm, seeking and hunting down any and everything that could grant them access to more power.”

And that, _that_ was the moment when it clicked for Ichigo. The stories his nannies used to read to him and his sisters, the way his father still looked so young despite reining for so long. All of these must have been true. Amber eyes widened almost unconsciously at the memory of someone singing to him.

_The teeth and the claws,_

_The flesh and the bones_

_The path to the grave_

_For the worthy and brave._

“The teeth and the claws!” he exclaimed a little too quickly, the melody still playing in his mind.

“Among many others” Urahara confirmed. “ The news about the invasion were not all off, since a hunter was rumoured to hunt down all the strongest Yokai in order to take down the Emperor.”

“And keeping us all in one place would have made their job a hell of a lot easier” Ichigo mumbled. Still a little bit confused by the amount of information he was receiving, and under the shadow of an oncoming migraine, Ichigo tried to connect the dots as best as he could. “ That still doesn’t explain how does Yoruichi know Rukia though, or why are you all here. “

Yoruichi just smirked and leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “ That, Ichigo, is because not only your father was a wielder of reiatsu, but his most trusted people and friends are Yokai. As his Chief of Security, I am in charge of training the volunteering beings from the other side of the Veil, most of which ended up in the guard, espionage services or officers. Kuchiki here was one of the most promising ones before other… personal issues forced us to part ways. That , and the fact that she is a kitsune, after all.”

That was the first time Rukia intervened, and as much as Ichigo somehow sensed more than noticed how agitated she was, her voice was even when she spoke. “My deepest apologies, general. It’s been a while since the circumstances of my departure have been brought up, but I think that the prince deserves to know.” Her big amethyst eyes were gleaming with a determination that reflected in the set of her jaw.

“Kuchiki.”

“Ma’am.”

All the while, Kyoraku started leaning towards Urahara, his old illness choosing to act up right at that moment. Urahara, in turn, harboured a completely blank demeanour, calculating and probably analysing the tension in the room. Ichigo could slowly feel his self control slipping away, tired of how everyone seemed to use him as a pawn in their own game, leaving him completely in the dark. His father was in danger, his sisters were in danger, and everything he could do about it was sit around and do _nothing_.

“Rukia, what do I deserve to know?” With words carefully chosen, clearly spaced with all the intention of someone who was at their breaking point, Ichigo asked. He had known the three people in front of him since he was a kid, playing with Yoruichi who taught him how to fight before he could properly use cutlery, Urahara who seemed perfectly content with giving him riddles to solve instead of the assignments he received from his tutors, Kyoraku who took him on long walks and talked to him how to live life. Beside him, Rukia was practically still a stranger.

In that moment though, he felt like Rukia was his only ally against a world that was about to crumble in front of him. They told him he was colorblind just to escape from showing their true colours.

“The Empress Masaki, she,” Rukia’s steady voice trembled with something that was not fear of him, but her own emotions taking over. “She was not killed in an ambush. She was an eight-tailed kitsune, and she died at the hand of a hunter.” _to protect you_ , were the words left unsaid, that Ichigo heard nonetheless.

Ichigo felt a sudden pain in his chest taking over his sense, an infernal ringing stuck in his ears. Around them, he could feel energetic waves leaving his body as everything around them seemed about to shatter, a wind that was not exactly wind howling wildly around them.

“So much for letting him down gently.” 

*

It was far from the first time Rukia had ever felt conflicted in her life.

That, however, did nothing to help with the fact that she felt completely wrecked by Ichigo’s pain, his reiatsu flailing wildly around them, the soulmate bond between them making her own reiatsu react in turn and amplifying the destructive effect. 

Soulmates. 

Rukia froze in her seat. It was the first time she had actually thought about it, in a situation that was unrelated to passing out on the floor of her hut. Her soulmate was the future emperor of Seiretei; remembering the nightmares she had gently pushed away, it didn’t take long for Rukia to figure out the sources of the pain blooming in her chest, and that gave her an idea – as a kitsune, she could manipulate the emotions of those around her, and she had, plenty of times before. A little trickery was not bad if used with good intentions, right?

Rukia might not have had reiatsu reserves equal to Ichigo’s, but she prided herself on having perfect control over it. Closing her eyes, she tried to find the tie that linked her with Ichigo in her mind space, tugging around the white ribbons flailing wildly until she finally found it.

 _I’ve got you, Ichigo_.

Opening the bond for the first time felt like burning from inside out, while being left out in the cold for too long. Gently, Rukia tried to coax the negative emotions from Ichigo until she could faintly hear his breathing evening out as though he was a world away.

He was still too young to have dealt with such loss, but Rukia? Rukia was half made of the people she lost, and the other half was embellished by the fear she would lose the people she still dared to hold dear. She could handle it, she could bury it so deep within herself it would eventually stop hurting.

When she opened her eyes again, Rukia felt tipsy and everyone was looking at her; Kisuke Urahara’s bucket hat was nowhere to be found and his big brown eyes were wide, impressed. Even if Rukia didn’t know he and Kyoraku-sama were married, the twin expressions on their faces would have been hilarious. 

“See? I told you she was the best of them.” Yoruichi puffed her chest proudly, her golden eyes regarding her with respect. In the world Rukia used to live, respect from a superior was akin to the highest reward a soldier could get; and damn if she didn't miss that.

And Ichigo. Ichigo, who still held her hand under the table, was too hesitant to come closer, but.

His amber eyes have always been intense, but this time they held such tenderness as they regarded her, as if he knew exactly what she had done for him, even though Rukia was sure there was no way that was the case.

At the back of her mind, she still felt his pain, the storm this discussion had sparked in his soul, but there was also the raspy voice of Zangetsu, who thanked her. Sode no Shirayuki has explained to Rukia the nature of the seal placed on Ichigo’s soul energy, and how Zangetsu has been sealed in his blade for the better part of the last 15 years; hearing him speak again made the corners of Rukia’s lips twitch upwards unconsciously.

Urahara played mindlessly with the cane that was actually Benihime, his zanpakuto; he was probably the most clear headed in the room, as unnerving his carefree and careless demeanour might have seemed.

“Ichigo, you surely must understand the importance of being well hidden from the outside world. Both Isshin and Kurosaki-sama were extremely powerful individually, but after the assassination happened, your father had your reiatsu sealed so it wouldn’t attract attention. Same to Yuzu and Karin. But being here now as witness, that just left you with stupid amounts of soul energy and no control over them.”

Snapping out of his thoughts and taking his eyes off Rukia – which caused a blush she would never acknowledge in public or otherwise, Ichigo once again adopted the stance of a member of royalty, never faltering and carefully considering his options which were, not many.

While Rukia knew all too well what it meant to be a member of nobility, so she could only imagine the pressure and the responsibilities that were laid on his shoulders, the duty to his family, to his country, to himself – even though he liked ignoring the last one almost as much as disregarding norms.

Rukia knew that she didn't have the time to process most of the information she was given, and dreaded the moment it will all come down tumbling – still, that was for future Rukia to deal with. Present Rukia was welcoming the building pressure behind her eyes that always came with absorbing such a large quantity of negative emotions.

She felt herself getting dizzy and slightly swaying to the nearest person, who happened to be Ichigo. It was a breach of etiquette, but no one seemed to care particularly much about etiquette, and Ichigo already angled his body so that he could support her in a subtle manner that wouldn't be deemed inappropriate. 

The talk resumed, and Rukia did her best to maintain general awareness, yet her eyes closed of their accord, lulled to a dreamless slumber by hushed tones.

The Kuchiki Elders would have probably disowned her at least twice by now.

*

Although some might be so inclined to think, Ichigo was not dumb, even though he sometimes pretended to be, so he was left alone. Therefore he knew Rukia had somehow managed to stop the panic bubbling in his stomach, raising rapidly and making him breath fast and shallow, shaking his entire body. It went against everything he had been taught, but over the course of a week, not many teachings still remained relevant in the face of soul energy and the secrets everyone seemed to keep in their pockets.

After stopping Ichigo from spiralling down and possibly causing further damage – the house may have seen better days, but he still hoped it would see tomorrow as well – Rukia eventually fell asleep, leaning on his side. Neither of his advisors, and friends to some degree, said anything other than raising their eyebrows. Ichigo scoffed, but when Rukia's sleeping figure started to slide away, he put an arm over her shoulders and pressed her to his chest, trying to find a comfortable pose for her. 

"What is to be done then? I can't live in hiding for the rest of my life." Ichigo said quietly.

Kyoraku seemed troubled still, and for a moment Ichigo wondered if he was affected by the outburst as well. Looking at the man's face, Ichigo saw more wrinkles than he remembered, and where he was once lively, Shunsui-sama just seemed tired. In fact, all three of them looked worse for wear, and Ichigo felt terrible for letting his emotions rule over him, his eagerness to have answers defeating the common sense he should have had.

"Let's take a break, shall we?" in any other circumstance, sounding so much like his father would have made Ichigo scowl, but not now. "I'll try to see where everyone is going to sleep and how many futons are available. I'll ask Rukia if she has a few spares." Or was it Lady Kuchiki now?

While the men relaxed with relief, Yoruichi with her military grace still stood up straight, deep in thought. It had been a long while since Ichigo had seen her serious for such a long time, not knowing what was to be done right away. She was looking at Rukia, who at this point was half curled on his lap, completely silent and unmoving save for the steady pattern of her breathing; she looked almost helpless, trusting Ichigo enough to lean on him like that. It was as if something shifted, and Ichigo felt a strong need to shield her from the inquiring stares.

That’s just what friends do, right? 

Yoruichi just came round the table and helped Ichigo to move without waking the sleeping kitsune, picking Rukia up with ease. Ichigo felt the loss of her warmth on his thigh and was not entirely sure how he felt about it, but at least Rukia could sleep comfortably on his futon, with Shihouin watching over her. 

Glancing around, Ichigo realized that the two men that remained silent were actually nowhere to be found, and had probably gone to fetch their trunks from the carriage they presumably arrived with. Deciding to finally make himself useful, Ichigo went out to help, decidedly ignoring the hushed whispers exchanged between the two women he left behind as he closed the door.

*

Yoruichi Shihouin was just as magnanimous and imperative as Rukia remembered, the jokes about her having nine lives harbouring some truths. The last time they had seen each other was when Rukia was adopted by Byakuya-nii, her new status as Lady of a noble house forcing her to drop out of the training corps. It was a distant memory, but Rukia still remembered golden eyes full of rage and sharp claws pointed at no one in particular – even as a general, Yoruichi knew that the Kuchiki Yurei were a hair length short of becoming Kami, untouchable and irreverent. 

For once in her life, Rukia was supposed to be one of the best at something; an orphan who had to fight tooth and nail to survive her entire life, so close to becoming an intel officer before she was adopted in the Kuchiki clan who thought of her as lesser and clad her in the finest silks until Rukia felt like she could not breathe anymore. She did her best not to be ungrateful, but seeing her old commander hit Rukia like a freight train, a reminder of _what could have been_. 

That, and it was probably amplified by the fact that she still had a monstrous headache after trying to internalize Ichigo’s loss. Shifting her weight, Rukia did her best to withhold a whimper as she tried to get up.

“Take it easy, Rukia,” were the words that accompanied the strong hands that quickly came to her aid. The world started spinning around her, so the kitsune closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to convince herself that she was fine.

“Ichigo, is he–”

“Fine, yes, Kuchiki, _he_ ’s not the one who can’t stand upright” Rukia almost smiled at the way she could feel Lady Shihouin rolling her eyes. “And please excuse our intrusion, we didn’t know you were the guardian of this particular forest.”

Still dizzy, the kitsune just nodded. It was usually considered bad behaviour to enter someone’s territory without notifying them beforehand – common courtesy beyond the Veil. If she had truly wanted, Rukia could have forced the caravan to leave, despite being outnumbered, because she had the support of the Forest and its inhabitants – not that Rukia would have even _thought_ about that. She knew that _they_ knew a lot more than what they were letting on, and if her soldier training taught her to accept orders and the information she was given with no further questions, her nature as fox spirit pushed her curiosity in the way.

“You felt it too, the rupture of the seal. Does that mean you were the one to put it on him?” 

Yoruichi shook her head. Both of them knew that the bakeneko were not particularly adept at seals and tags. “Urahara did, but he added reiatsu from other key people too, most of whom are dead now. Though I admit, I didn’t expect you to get on a first-name basis with a human, Rukia, you sly fox.”

As much as Rukia respected, and even loved at times, her superior, she couldn’t contain a groan (and if that served to cover her faint blush, well, all to the better). “You sounded exactly like Ran. And Ichigo is not a normal human, so it doesn’t count.” Rukia paused, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. “What are we going to do about this entire situation? If the hunters are after Ichigo, there is no way they missed the breaking of the seal, and he still can’t defend himself against yokai.”

Moving to look at Yoruichi, Rukia saw her amused demeanour shift to something else, the coldness of the steel underneath. Rukia might have been one of the best trainees, but she still had a long way to go to reach Yoruichi Shihouin’s level, the true legend in the field.

“We have to train him. I hope you are aware of the fact that the two of you have a reiatsu channel open between the two of you is going to raise some questions.” 

It was no use trying to hide it, so Rukia didn’t even attempt to dismiss the bond between her and Ichigo. But then, that was exactly what gave her an idea.

“So, the hunter has an idea of what Ichigo’s reiatsu feels like, right? Accounting for the changes that occurred within the seal and the influence of a veiled forest under kami protection too.”

Yoruichi nodded, her brows furrowing slightly. If she were a lesser person, she would have probably asked what that had to do with anything, but then the epiphany seemed to hit her. Still, instead of beaming, Yoruichi’s stare hardened.

“Kuchiki, are you out of your mind? Byakuya didn’t send you to the end of the world for you to become bait and bring the world to ruin.”

Rukia shook her head. She knew for sure the gods existed, but that was the day she finally realized they didn’t think they owed her any favours.

“Ichigo is the future emperor, General. Besides, I think the Kuchiki Elders would benefit from a short visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Measure for measure, but god only knows I have none. :)
> 
> A small glossary:  
> * Yurei: essentially ghosts, people even raised temples and shrine to appease them and were thought to bring famine and misery  
> * Kami: basically deities
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and if you did, don't be shy and let me know what you thought in the comments.


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